


Letters Addressed to the Fire

by treefrogie84



Category: Supernatural, Wayward Sisters - Fandom
Genre: Gen, failed summoning, spell casting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefrogie84/pseuds/treefrogie84
Summary: The match flares, sulfur bright, as she drops it into the bowl. The ingredients spark and fizzle as they light, wormwood and saffron going up in smoke and reflecting into the glass sphere suspended above it. Patience takes a deep breath and holds it while she glances over the notepad balanced on her knee. Breathing out steadily, she carefully reads off the summoning and settles back to wait.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	Letters Addressed to the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this is the same universe as the fics in [Take the Love I've Embraced](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1160675), but as it's not Claire or Kaia focused, I didn't toss it in there. Some time after the episode ends and before Claire brings Kaia back.
> 
> Remember, this is firm AU at this point, so nothing in s14-15 happened.

The match flares, sulfur bright, as she drops it into the bowl. The ingredients spark and fizzle as they light, wormwood and saffron going up in smoke and reflecting into the glass sphere suspended above it. Patience takes a deep breath and holds it while she glances over the notepad balanced on her knee. Breathing out steadily, she carefully reads off the summoning and settles back to wait.

And waits.

She doesn’t like having to do this, having to drag Gramma out of her rest, but she needs help and no one has been able to put her in contact with another psychic, let alone one who works the same way she does. The Winchesters had said somethings about some dude out in the middle of Kansas as the only one who was still in business that they knew of, but how well do they really know the guy? And she’s already learned that no matter what they all think, there’s as many different flavors of psychic as there are stars in the sky.

Better to get help from someone who knows her, has— or had, at least— a pretty good grasp on how her abilities might work, and a vested interest in keeping her safe.

So she’ll burn wormwood and saffron, potentially ruin a perfectly good glass sphere, lie to Jody and Alex about what she’s doing down here in the basement. Whatever she needs to do to keep them safe, to get help with her own abilities.

She’s pretty sure she should have gotten a response of some kind by now though. It’s been at least five minutes.

Frowning, Patience bends over her notebook, reading over the instructions she’d carefully copied down, the variations on a theme.

“She’s not coming,” a woman says behind her. “All the spell work in the world won’t draw her down.”

Patience spins around on her knees, pulling the angel blade she’d ~~stolen~~ borrowed from Claire from under her thigh and holding it up. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman snorts delicately, pushing the tail of her braid back over her shoulder before raising an eyebrow. “Hell, actually. We have… call it a professional interest… in young psychics trying to raise the dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, dearie, that necromancy is far beyond your skills and I’m rather curious as to why you’re trying.”

Patience pushes herself up— she won’t kneel in front of some demon— and glares across the room. “It’s not necromancy. I’m not trying to bring her back, I just want to ask some questions.” The handful of stones Gramma left her bite into her palm, twisting. “If you’re not going to help—“

The woman shakes her head, stepping away from the laundry machines and taking several graceful steps towards Patience. “There is no helping you, child. Not with this spell, not with calling who you want to call.”

She feels like a grubby child next to her, dirt ground into the knees of her jeans, a worn out hoodie pulled over top, while the woman is wearing flowing slacks with legs so wide they might as well be a skirt and a silk blouse that shines in the yellowish lightbulb overhead. “So what then,” Patience says petulantly. “You’re going to kill me and drag me with you?”

“I can if you so desire, but I’m rather trying to keep Hell _out_ of Earth’s affairs at the moment. Witches are my domain, you see, and I thought I’d see who you were.”

“‘M not a witch. Psychic, supposedly. But useless for the most part.”

“There is no such thing as useless power, young lady.” She skewers Patience with a glare. “Ones that are less useful than others, possibly, but you can…” she trails off, waiting.

“See the future. Sometimes. Assuming I actually understand what I see. Or on command.” Blowing out a breath, she shoves her hands into the hoodie pocket, releasing the gems there. “I know it’s not useless, but if it’s not controllable…”

Too late, she realizes that she shouldn’t have said a damn word. Although, whoever this woman is, she’s not a demon— they’ve spent hours building a double wall down here with salt between them— so maybe she’s lucked out.

She’s from Hell though, so…

Too late now.

“That, chickee, is only going to be helped with practice. There’s nothing for it.”

“Is that supposed to be helpful?” Patience demands. She’s not being fair, but she’s also in the basement of her foster mom’s house, trying to summon her dead grandmother because no one ever thought that maybe she should know how to do this shit. “Because it’s not. It’s platitudes handed down by shitty teachers.”

“And you have never not been top of your class,” the woman retorts, her accent broadening, moving north, becoming what Patience recognizes as Scottish instead of the posh BBC English hs’ed been speaking earlier. “I understand.” Her mouth quirks into a small smile before she nods firmly. “Right then. Let’s get started. A proper teacher and you should be one of the greats.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you want more power than being clairvoyant, then your options are demon deal or witchcraft. I’ve already gone up against the Winchesters once, I have no interest in being on the losing side of a deal with them.”

“I don’t want to—“

“Yes, dearie. I know. So we won’t. But there’s a vast gulf between where you are and where a demon deal is. Particularly since you have your own power to tap into.”

Patience grabs hold of Gramma’s gems and takes a deep breath. She’s useless as she is, and she’s tired of that. She already got Kaia killed because she misread something, she needs more information, more power. “Fine. But I’m only using it to help people.”

“As you wish, lovey. Shall we begin?”

“Yes.”


End file.
